


Solemn Prayers

by bluuemoon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Dragons, Fantasy, Magic, Mild Gore, slight vague passing angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22609087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluuemoon/pseuds/bluuemoon
Summary: He never wanted to be here, but he had no choice. Nothing mattered more than the flower he held dear, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone get in his way.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 2





	Solemn Prayers

**Author's Note:**

> Yeehonk. A drabble that I might turn into a story. Tell me what y'all think I should do with this clusterfuck!

Heavy wings beat the sky like drums as the colossal reptile soared over the dark and bottomless ocean. The man between the powerful wings was only able to hang on by finding purchase around one of the tall black ridges that stuck out of the muscular gray body, his body pulled close as one single slip could send him plummeting into the seas below.

The expression on the rough man's face was solemn and exhausted, the purple tinted bags under his eyes telling endless stories of many sleepless nights. He had the faint scent of old blood and the sword in his holster had the tell tale signs of rusting caused by battles sorely won.

The dragon let out a rowdy, tremble inducing roar that made the man's eardrums ring, shaking him out of his sleep deprived daze. His grip had been slipping and his body was about to fall off this mighty beast when the roar brought him back to his senses. Sighing softly, he readjusted his grip around the pointed ridge.

"Honestly, Vritra, what would I do without you?" His tone felt weary but his voice was gruff, like the voice of a man who had stared lady death in her empty, cold eyes and called her a wench.

Vritra gaze an affectionate rumble from the depths of his throat, making the man between his wings sway like a thin branch of a tree in the mountain wind.

Vritra had been named after a demon of drought, a leader of the dasas, and the man thought this was oddly comforting, considering that Vritra would always fly over the ocean separating his home country and his current destination whenever he could. The Vritra of legend was an anti-god that hid the sun and hoarded the waters and rains, while his own Vritra brought a special kind of warmth to his world that you'd never expect to come from a massive, fire-breathing reptile that has wiped out kingdoms under the man's command.

But Vritra had a heart of gold, and that was all he could ask for, for his own heart had an aching hole in it that called out for the love of his life.

Interrupting his train of thought, Vritra growled lowly, warning the man that they were quickly nearing land. He tensed, sitting upright so quickly that his blood rusted armor clanked and jingled from the sudden movement. His gloved hands tugged back on the ridge he held, and Vritra dove.

A thick dark wood forest surrounded the harbor at landfall, which also happened to separate the harbor from a wide beach to the east. That was where Vritra nose dived towards.

The pure speed of the dragon made his body appear to be a trick of the light in the darkening winter sky. The man wasn't afraid of being seen, even when Vritra's sudden and heavy landing on the sandy shore made nearby trees tremble.

Vritra stretched his wings outwards in almost a bird like fashion before lowering them at an angel so that his precious cargo could slide down along one of the outlines of his hallow bones in the wing.

He landed with a grunt, the extra weight of his battle armor making him land with a hard clunk. Turning, he watched as Vritra settled himself comfortably on the wet earth and lower his horned head to be face to face with the man.

"You've done well, Vritra. I'm so proud of you." He muttered softly, reaching up and petting the muzzle of this great beast as if he were a pupping having juts learned his first trick.

Obviously pleased, Vritra gaze a rumbling purr that shook the man to his very core. Gazing into those striking yellow eyes, he whispered in foreign tongue of growls and low tones. The dragon's wide eyes stared back into the sea green of the man's before closing, ruffling his wings in a shiver as its scales begun to shimmer. Its reptilian body started shrinking down slowly, bones shifting with audible cracks that echoed down the shoreline as it's form shrank further and further down until it was able to wrap it's tiny body around the man's left index finger, resting its head on his second knuckle before stilling. The shimmer dulled and the scales of the beast turned a bright, polished gray. The once colossal beast became an iron ring that weight down the man's hand.

The man stood there silently for a moment, looking out at sea and watching the waves lap at his boots. He didn't want to be on this beach. He did not want to be in this country, on this continent, or even this side of the planet. He wanted to be anywhere but here and be going anywhere but his current destination.

But his God stopped answering his solemn prayers late at night, and he'll be damned if he legs some piggish king lay a single finger on the one person who mattered. The only person that mattered in this cold, cruel world.

It didn't matter if the King of Yborend was using him like a pawn for his own corrupted destruction, he would do anything if it meant keeping his daughter Lily safe.

So despite the mounting fear in the pit of his stomach, he turned away from the freedom of the sea and marched to the harbor of the city, preparing to face King Heinrich for what would never be the last time.


End file.
